


Your Faults Will Be Mine

by KlingonEtiquette



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crowley is called crawly, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Extended Scene, Friendship, Introspection, M/M, Pining, inspired by a song, star-crossed lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 07:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19247047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KlingonEtiquette/pseuds/KlingonEtiquette
Summary: An extension of the very first scene between Crowley (Crawly) and Aziraphale in Eden, when Crowley realizes he's falling in love with his "enemy."





	Your Faults Will Be Mine

**Author's Note:**

> The song I listened to is "La guerre pour se plaire" from 1789. The title is a lyric from the song, but translated into English.

"I gave it away!" cries the angel in dismay. Aziraphale, Crawly remembers. His name is Aziraphale. 

"You what?" Crawly asks, astonished, and Aziraphale begins what must be a lengthy explanation. But Crawly isn't listening anymore. Not really. He peers at the angel through serpent's eyes and thinks to himself,  _He's extraordinary._  With that thought comes a flood of fear and shame. A demon could get in a lot of trouble going around thinking things like that. A demon could get in even more trouble going around thinking things like that about an  _angel_. Demons are the Fallen. They can't just start having warm, cuddly feelings on a whim. It won't do. But there Aziraphale is, looking so sweet and concerned, and all Crawly can think about is how alike they are. He wants to say so out loud, but he knows the walls have ears. Or the trees.  _Something_ has to have ears and Crawly can't risk it. 

Aziraphale's explanation comes to an end with, "Oh, I do hope I didn't do the wrong thing."

Somewhat sarcastically, Crawly says, "You're an angel. I don't think you  _can_ do the wrong thing."

Aziraphale's smile makes Crawly wish he meant it nicely. "Thank you... I... oh,  _thank you_ ," he breathes, his voice barely more than a tantalizing whisper. 

So Crawly turns to watch the sky. Those clouds look awfully dark and ominous after so many beautiful afternoons. Nothing good can come from clouds like those, Crawly just  _knows_ it. They look cold and damp, like a warning. Crawly doesn't like the idea that those clouds could come anywhere near him, let alone  _Aziraphale_. Aziraphale looks troubled, too, wringing his hands and watching the clouds approach. His brow furrows and Crawly contemplates doing something impulsive, something grotesquely human. He considers pressing his lips to the angel's forehead, smoothing out those worry lines with a gentle kiss. It's a stupid, scary impulse. Besides which, aren't angels a little bit like holy shrines? A single touch and Crawly worries that shrine will be ruined forever, tarnished by evil that spreads like a disease. 

"I've been worrying about it, too, you know," Crawly offers weakly. "Whether this whole business with the apple wasn't the  _right_ thing to do. A demon can get into a lot of trouble doing the right thing."

Aziraphale keeps his eyes on the horizon. 

"Wouldn't it be funny?" Crawly asks.

"Hmm?" Aziraphale blinks once, twice, three times, far too quickly. 

"If you did the wrong thing and I did the right. Wouldn't that be funny?"

A soft, anxious laugh escapes Aziraphale's lips before he snaps, "No! No, it wouldn't be funny at all!"

Without any warning (besides the dark clouds, that is), the first rain begins to fall. Before Crawly can move to shelter himself under his own wings, he feels a rush of air and sees white feathers stretched over his head like a canopy. Aziraphale... As if he's done it a thousand times before, Crawly steps closer to Aziraphale, grateful for his warmth and protection. And as if he's done it a thousand times as well, Aziraphale lets him.

Again, stronger this time, Crawly feels a rush of scalding affection. He wants to step closer, nestle against Aziraphale's side, but he knows better than to push his luck. Pushing his luck is what got him in this mess in the first place, isn't it? Angels weren't supposed to do that, and the ones who did... Crawly shudders at the memory of falling. This, he thinks, feels an awful lot like falling. But he's not falling  _from_ anything this time. He's falling  _toward_ something, toward  _Aziraphale_ , toward what he imagines must be love. 

The thought terrifies him. 


End file.
